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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114055">Play the Field</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloqier/pseuds/Leloqier'>Leloqier</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Andrew and Aaron live with Nicky, Highschool AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of dry heaving and throwing up, Neil and Andrew met as kids, Neil never knew Kevin, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vauge mention of Andrew's past, Vauge mentions of self-harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:20:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,890</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29114055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloqier/pseuds/Leloqier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After his mother's death in Seattle, Neil Josten changed his name and face and escaped to Palmetto Highschool in South Carolina- a small school disliked by many. Though it seemed like a good place to hide, pieces of his past were tucked neatly and quietly within, and Neil so desperately wants to repair past mistakes... and to play the field again. Exy and broken children, whatever can happen?</p><p>---</p><p>"Girl, you make me wanna play the field<br/>Can't explain all of the things you make me feel<br/>I wanna join your team, yeah, I'm for real<br/>There's not a thing I won't do to hang out with you"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Play the Field</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/queersardonicrat/gifts">queersardonicrat</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MmArgent/gifts">MmArgent</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sorry I'm putting this out so late! I had it all written and then decided I didn't like it so I rewrote it all heh. I hope y'all still like it and it at least represents a little of what you had in mind for this song!</p><p>Lyrics from Play the Field by Partner!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Palmetto High School shines bright in the newly autumn breeze. The outside is plain, but decorated to seem special and noteworthy with garish accents of white and blinding orange. There are several floors as far as one can tell from the outside, winding staircases showing through the massive open windows. Several students mill there, probably cutting class. It's only the second month of the school year and it seems like the teenagers withering away within are fed up already. The lawn is plush and there's plenty of campus space- a large parking lot filled to the brim with run down and fancy cars alike. The football field fills the backdrop, the stadiums way too small to hold the entire student body: the huge gym residing next to it, the highlight. The walls are expansive, revealing just how much care went into it (despite the blinding bright banners embellished with the school’s foxpaw). In it plays exy- the school’s favoured sport. Though exy is a relatively new one compared to games like soccer and basketball even, it took the world with storm. High Schools seemed to pick it up as soon as it became a collegiate sport, Palmetto High not excluded. This eyesore of a school is disliked by many (the architecture of the school paid for more than the actual education- not to mention the various sporting teams abilities), but it's still a place to hide away inconspicuously, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And so there sits Neil Josten on the sidewalk to the entrance of his new highschool (temporary): hair dark brown, eyes smudged a dark black with the aching scratchiness of month old contacts. The smell of burning leaves raked up by underpaid janitors scorches his nostrils with the memory of his burning mother, and a weariness settles over his shoulders. He itches for something to ebb the pain, something to take away the memory of her wrecked voice as she yelled at him to run, to hide, to change again and again. Keep running, never stop no matter how bad it hurts. That’s why he’s here. He’s only 16, barely old enough to look the part of a young adult, so he continues to fit in with the far-too-inquisitive highschool crowd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>South Carolina is easy enough to blend into, plenty of adults who don’t care to look his way twice and plenty of abandoned suburban homes to squat in. It's risky, but Neil has been through much worse. He has the papers to back him up- fake IDs and fake incomes and fake parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Registration was a breeze, the principal too drunk to care why he was in his office alone. The buzzed brain of a tired middle aged man was too lowly to consider the meanings of a child unaccompanied, and the other members of staff were too occupied with problem kids to take notice either. It was easy as ever, but Neil didn’t have time to be grateful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Neil Josten is living on borrowed time, and if he wanted it to last a bit longer he needed to move. This meant grabbing his duffle bag that was currently falling apart at the seams, cinching his hood tighter around his face, and slouching into the busy halls of his new school as the fifth period bell rang out an obnoxious tune. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil hasn’t been here for very long, but he already likes it a little too much. The people here only care about themselves, which is good for his cover, but the ones who notice him… well, they don’t ask questions either. It's easy. Easy to blend in, easy to be Neil Josten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil finally feels like he can take a breath: after his mother died he ran for so long he didn’t even keep track of the days anymore. The bottoms of his feet were in constant agony, and his lungs felt like they were being trapped by the weight of the world itself. Finally finding a safe-ish place to stay is as close as he can get to a normal existence. That feeling in itself, though, is dangerous, but Neil can’t dwell on it for too long. He has to stay here, at least for a little while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without his mother here to guide him, he needs help elsewhere. The little time that the Universe is allowing him- what with his father’s arrest in Seattle, is just enough to allow him access to his spread-out contacts and money. Here, in the unlikable city of Palmetto, South Carolina, Neil can regenerate and recoup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That being said, Neil also has time to be swayed by temptations. Everywhere he goes in these halls, there are fliers and discussions and gossip all about the very thing Neil has refused himself for so long- Exy.  And the group of overzealous athletes that find themselves huddled in the corner of his fifth period class- some on desks, others on each others’ laps, all rub Neil the wrong way. None of them look too long at him though, but they do long enough for Neil to notice them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's the tall, muscular, most-definitely backliner; the confident and bold blonde; a gentle and reserved one with an unsettling gaze and pastel hair; a tiny, shorter than even Neil, boy with his head face down on his desk- only a peek of sandy blond slipping out from under his black beanie; a strong looking girl with an assertive voice that practically screams captain; the testy one with a mean scowl- why the confident blonde was sitting on his lap, Neil didn’t know; and finally another tall, but not quite as tall as the first, boy with a bored disposition and striking green eyes. A quick glance tells him everything he needs to know. One: that one of them is missing- the Palmetto High Exy team is the smallest in the district, and Neil did his research. There's supposed to be eight of them. And two: that they are a troubled bunch. That’s why the team is the least favourable- the laughing stock if you will. It's chock full of troubled kids needing to either get away from home or stay out of detention; or both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he sits, kicking his bag under his desk haphazardly, eyes bore uncomfortably down the back of his neck. Neil can only shift in place, refusing to look behind him. Looking back is a sure sign of death- the only thing you can afford to do is to keep running, keep looking forward. So, he ignores it, focusing instead on the trickling in of students and the hungover science teacher pacing at the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But finally, after what seems like forever, the Palmetto High Foxes quiet, and class begins, and Neil still feels those piercing eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everywhere Neil goes, there seems to be some new commotion having to do with that blasted sport. Kids shouting about the next game, cheerleaders that call themselves Vixens shoving team tryout flyers in his face… Team tryouts…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Absolutely not. Neil is stupid, but he sure as hell does not have a death wish. And Exy is one. Throughout his years on the run, his mother always told him to stay away from it. He was only allowed to obsess quietly- observe from a distance. She never even knew about the magazines he'd steal from the corner store and shove in his duffle bag. If she had… well Neil would no longer be allowed to even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>about the bastard sport, that's for sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, why is he here? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The huge gym doors, outrageously bright and ugly banners hanging above swaying in the breeze, seems unreal. A sign-up sheet is plastered on the front door and something in Neil's gut shifts. He knows the team is small- unfit and outmatched for any game, so maybe it wouldn't matter if he signed up? Hell, he could pretend to not know what he's doing so he wouldn't get picked out of the crowd but… It's too risky. Right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The team is bad, but they are also notorious. And with such a small lineup, Neil would be the talk of the school if he made it. But… he wants to play. And it's highschool… His dad is in jail. It'd be all right. He can allow himself this one indulgence, can’t he? Taking a breath to steady himself, Neil pushes open those heavy glass doors- eyes still pinned to that taped on piece of paper, "TEAM SIGNUPS!! GO FOXES!" This is going to be a mistake, he can feel it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neil Josten?” A large man in a wife beater and gym shorts calls his name from the small row of teenagers- the coach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m right here.” The team's all there, save for that mysteriously missing player and the beanie adorned blond from before. Neil feels those damn eyes on him again and tries not to shift uncomfortably. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“It’s your turn, kid. Go on, show us what you got.” The man seems friendly enough, if not a bit grumpy- but his smile is comforting in a way. Safe, almost. It's odd. It somehow makes Neil want to try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, he can’t do that. Not to his fullest extent. Most of the kids he’s seen try out already have been good, or at least all right. Neil knows he's better than them, that he has the capability to outshine them with ease, but he also knows he has to hold back. Not make himself so noticeable. He's not here to join the team, just to feel the rush of playing one last time. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tryouts are set up in scrimmages. The prospect players would play against the original team, and Coach Wymack would assess them. There aren’t many kids trying out, though, so some have to be recycled. It's a way to test their stamina, at least. It does set off an alarm in Neil’s head though. The whole team isn’t even here, and besides, how many kids would actually get chosen? Neil isn't here to actually join,  and the dwindling amount of candidates will most definitely cause issues. Not only that, Wymack is known for taking in the most troubled kids in the school- it’s like he has an “I’m abused” beacon or something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil Josten definitely doesn't have the cleanest track record when it comes to trauma...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking away the nausea quickly rising in his chest, Neil sets up spot as a striker- the new position not something he’s used to, but it's all the better for hiding his skill. When he was younger, he played primarily as a backliner, but the shining expanse of newly waxed court is still the same. And as Coach blows the whistle, Neil takes off running like nothing has changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The slap of feet on polished wood, the heavy breathing of athletes, and the bang and swoosh of the ball ricocheting off the plexiglass wall and into the net of the closet player is a familiar thing. It's the closest thing to home for a boy on the run. It makes Neil feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Exy is his lifeblood. It thrums through his bones and into the soles of his feet. Lungs heave and arms swing with that familiar aching soreness- but this time? This time it's welcome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No longer is Neil running from death, but he's running towards a chance. A chance to break free, a chance to </span>
  <em>
    <span>live</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swoosh. Another goal scored by the boy trying to hide. All eyes are on him- the absolute opposite of what he wants in that moment. Especially when hidden blue eyes lock on two pairs of familiar hazel ones. Suddenly that rush of giddy exhilaration falls to something more akin to desperation and a choking hand around his throat. That missing player is none other than Andrew fucking Minyard. And the other? The one who, of course, kept obscuring his face every time Neil caught a glimpse in classrooms and halls, is his fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>twin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>he has a twin. If only Neil saw him sooner, he could have escaped.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Prevented</span>
  </em>
  <span> this catastrophic mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," Wymack notes, eyebrow perking upwards and a thin crease forming at the edges of his lips, "That was quite a performance. What did you think, Kev?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The green-eyed striker from before nods as he walks over towards Wymack from the other side of the court. Neil recognizes in his haze the harsh whispering between the striker and Andrew, Andrew’s eyes never leaving Neil’s. It feels oddly similar to the gaze that had been relentlessly following him around this entire hellish week, but this time it's coming from two directions. Dumbly, Neil’s head swivels to the side, locking eyes with the other goalie. The pastel-haired one, he notes… Neil feels sick. This was a mistake. How could he be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He needs out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>.</em>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Running again- running away, Neil leaves the gym: his lean legs carrying him further and further and further from that death trap of a school. He can barely think; the image of an uncaring middle school and trust and promises and the ripping of hair felt from his mother when she found out rushing through his skull. He'd recognize him. Neil knows he would- and with that… that </span>
  <em>
    <span>goalie</span>
  </em>
  <span> with her watchful gaze. How could Neil have ever thought he'd get away so easily here? He did research on this team. He knew they weren't ordinary. But he didn’t think to take the time to figure out who they </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What made him cut corners? Why did he not think? And why, after all this, did he allow himself to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span>? To even entertain the notion of playing this stupid sport? His mother- she'd kill him if she knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil needs to throw up. The nauseous feeling from earlier rears its ugly head again, and Neil can’t do anything but choke on his own fear. He needs out. He'd go to school tomorrow and tell the principal that he's moving, and that'd be that. He'd be gone. He has to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that thought in mind, Neil burst his way into the house he was squatting in- having run across town in record time, and dry heaves into the toilet. He can feel his mother ripping at him- her hands tearing at his clothes as she tugs him, yanks him, tells him to keep moving. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day, Neil comes into school late, not daring to come face to face with any of the foxes. He's not interested in facing his demons. Instead, he trudges his way towards the principal's office. The heavy wooden door sits there, a large window off to the side adorned with posters and schedules. The sight of tired secretaries typing and student office workers asleep at their desks sludges on inside. Neil steadies himself and reaches a trembling hand for the doorknob but ends up halting in the end- a familiar face exiting out of the office Neil has his runaway sights on. Coach David Wymack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can't face him right now. Refuses to hear what he has to say- if he chose to acknowledge him at all, and Neil knows he will. Neil Josten is a troubled kid, and Wymack wants him on his team. Of that he's certain- he knows it. But he also knows that if he joined this team, then the ticking timer on his life would shorten to just a mere few months rather than</span>
  <em>
    <span> at least</span>
  </em>
  <span> a year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Neil!" But it's too late, and Wymack isn't alone apparently, those unfeeling eyes casting a shadow on Neil’s soul. "There you are, kid. I've been looking for you all damn day. Where've you been?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Andrew’s voice, so different than it sounded when they were younger causes Neil to flinch more than just the sight of him. "You're on the team, by the way." The way those words cut into Neil’s very being is uncomfortable, unsettling. Andrew’s face reveals nothing, but Neil can tell he enjoys toying with him like this. Neil wishes he didn’t believe in regret. Wishes he doesn’t know just how important promises are to the boy he left so long ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I'm not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wymack turns a curious gaze onto him, a frown amplifying the worry lines marked into his skin. "Kevin wants you on the team. You play </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We could use someone as speedy as you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I said no."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, no isn't an option." Neil glowers at Andrew, who only quirks a small, infuriating smile in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Funny, I don't remember asking you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It’s not your turn to ask anything." The double meaning there stings worse than a knife wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wymack only sighs at their bickering and motions for the two to follow him. Neil can't, feet stuck into the ground. This is his escape. He can still leave. But with Andrew giving him that look, hands twisting themselves into fists at his side, and Neil's stupid yearning for this stupid sport and this stupid boy- he can't help himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He follows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Look, we can't do this here. You're the only one that caught Kevin's eye. It has to be you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The spoiled brat always gets what he wants." Andrew chimes in, unhelpfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And what if I tell him no? I’m not… I’m not playing with</span>
  <em>
    <span> him</span>
  </em>
  <span>." The tension surrounding the two highschoolers is impenetrable, and Neil can feel his hands start to shake even worse than before. And from the dip of Andrew’s eyes and his raised brow, he notices. This isn’t good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then why did you sign up, kid?” Either Wymack is oblivious to the silent conversation happening right in front of him, or he doesn’t care. “There must be a reason. You want to play, don't you? I can see it. The way you play… it's incredible. You have a gift."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil scoffs. "No. It's just a game. A highschool sport meant to pass the time. It means nothing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not to you." That's Andrew again, and when Neil meets his gaze he sees something there. Something indecipherable yet familiar. It causes something to click into place within him- something that tells Neil that he's right, something that reminds Neil of their quiet talks as they skipped school, reminds him of those yearning feelings that were never allowed to blossom into something more. To Neil, Exy </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>just a sport. It's the only thing keeping Neil moving- keeping him running and surviving and breathing. Without it, he'd have nothing. He'd be nothing. His eyes linger on Andrew's as he nods, only once but that's enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine." Maybe Andrew won’t bring it up, maybe he forgave him... Probably not, but now… nothing is stopping him from fixing what he broke. "I'll join the team."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing in that locker room, exy gear strewn about, racquets clamoring together and the distant bickering of two of the teammates- twin number two and the testy striker turned backliner sub (the switching of positions to accommodate for Neil earned him some animosity, but it's not anything Neil actually cares about), is somehow able to momentarily make Neil forget about why the hell this is such a bad idea. That was, at least, until Kevin walked in: all six feet and two inches of him basically filling up the space. The locker room is larger than that, see Matt Boyd: 6’4, but Kevin is all Neil can see, and those intense beyond belief green eyes have him in a lockdown. Neil braces himself for something unknown, a storm, a crash and burn- something. But nothing comes, and thankfully, Andrew hasn’t either. Just Kevin’s sturdy voice and harsh words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Took you long enough to make up your mind. We don’t have much time, y’know. And your playing,” He scoffs, and it makes something like hot anger churn in Neil’s gut, “It’s horrible.” A pause for effect, because apparently this guy does that. “But, you have potential, and that’s all I’m willing to give you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I’m so bad, then why did you throw a fit over me?” Neil's playing with fire, he knows, but the hollowness left in him from seeing Andrew again leaves him careless. “I’m under the impression that you needed me on this team desperately, but apparently I’m horrible now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes," Kevin confirms without hesitation. "But, I’ll help you. I’m sure you know how fast you are, you don’t need me stroking that little ego of which you should have.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Ignoring the insult with practiced ease, Neil shifts in place, eyes wary. “Help me?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I can make you better. You give your game to me, and I’ll make you the best you can be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as good as you though?” Neil’s voice is sharp- instigative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not. What do you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil can’t believe this guy. His arrogance is larger than he is tall- and he literally looks down on Neil with an expression that makes Neil want to cause a scene. Thankfully, or maybe not thankfully, Andrew steps into the room- face blank as he assesses the striker-on-striker staredown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well well well, what do we have here? Are you making friends, Kevin?” Neil’s breath left him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to give Neil personal training sessions. At lunch. Come with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember agreeing to that, actually.” Neil’s pulse quickens. Fine, one-on-one training, whatever. Most likely, he was going to agree anyways, but Andrew can’t be there. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Andrew is just as spiteful as always, though his eyes reveal nothing- no recognition or personal opinion on the subject. But Neil knows him, knows this about him, and this is only confirmed when those hazel eyes spark with mirth, mouth quirking up at a corner, and those two fingers tapping his thigh as he tears Neil down to his very core. Like he always does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, why not.” Fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright then it’s settled. We’ll start today. You’ll be there, </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> Neil?” Kevin leaves no room for argument, and lucky for him, Neil doesn’t have the strength to argue anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess I will.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After setting up his team locker that morning and getting fitted for a jersey, the hours tick away much too quickly down to lunch period. He dreads every bell that rings, every teacher that speaks, because each one leads him closer and closer to facing the person he thought he’d never seen again. Neil thought it’d be okay, when he left, because he was a runaway anyway. The tight grip of his mom’s hands encircling his wrist reminded him of that. Promises and the sharing of truths meant nothing. They had to mean nothing, but Neil could never stop thinking about them. Andrew revealed so much to him. Every lie that Neil told ached in his throat as he echoed back the same words each and every time. “I’m not lying. I’m not going anywhere. I feel the same. I promise.” Only one of those is a promise he never broke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, unlike the feeling he last felt as he stood outside the huge gymnasium doors, Neil feels worse. This feels like more than just a runaway story- more than just the son of a killer trying to survive. Neil’s nerves are on fire, rubbed raw from the endless worrying and memories. His mom rolls in her grave. But, he can’t step away now. Exy means too much to him… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Andrew</span>
  </em>
  <span> means too much to him. Even though it's stupid, Neil wants to fix his mistakes. He wants to explain himself- to tell Andrew the truths that he couldn’t quite before. And as he steps onto the edges of the court and watches Andrew and Kevin warming up with drills Neil can’t remember ever having done, Neil needs them to go back to that dusty and cruel school in California. Needs to return to the name he had then, the one that Andrew murmured under his breath as they sat under bleachers and beneath shady trees. Neil </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go back. He just hopes Andrew will let him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, Neil pounds on the plexiglass boxes’ doors, decked out in his new uniform with racquet in hand. He's ready. Lunch lasts an hour, so they have plenty of time to get a good practice in, and then there's more that night- the first game of the season only a few weeks away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Took you long enough, we’ve already wasted so much time. Go ahead and get your laps in while I set up.” Kevin steps aside so Neil can walk in and set down his racquet, Neil starting on a few light stretches to try and avoid Andrew’s gaze for as long as possible. But when he's finally ready, the sound of his feet pounding echoing around the gym as he begins his laps, he notices Andrew isn’t paying him any attention at all. Neil's uneven steps smooth over, his breaths coming more naturally then. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Focus</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The drills Kevin had planned prove to be ridiculously hellish, Neil never being able to do them as perfectly as Kevin wants. Apparently he learned them from his old team- a school on the other side of the state. Neil doesn’t care where he learned them, he just wants to be done with them. His years without playing and Andrew’s eyes making the hair on his neck rise, not helping with his coordination. Neil knows he can do better, and so does Kevin, so they keep going, and when the bell to signal the end of lunch rings, both of them practically jump out of their skins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right well,” Kevin pants, sweat dripping from his slicked down hair and over an eyebrow. “Go clean up then, and make it snappy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, Kevin, you’re not the coach.” Andrew muses from the goalie circle, brushing off dust nonchalantly from his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to be affected from exertion like the other two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just go.” And so they do, the estranged friends walking along each other, Neil overly-conscious of his heavy breaths as he tries to hold them in- tries to be as quiet as possible. Andrew doesn’t say anything to him, though, and they clean up in silence. Silence which, Neil thinks, may just be worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, uh… Andrew.” With flushed cheeks, Neil avoids Andrew’s eyes as he turns an inquisitive look on him. “I… uhm. I just wanted to let you know that it wasn’t my choice… to leave, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, weeks pass, the three of them carrying on like that. Kevin snapping commands to restart at lunch, and Wymack yelling at them to act like a real team after school. The scary thing is, though, that despite everything, Neil </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> likes it here. Likes being Neil Josten, if not a bit too much. And even though he sometimes catches Andrew staring at him or whispering to Renee as her eyes track his movements with concern, Neil likes it. He’s never been this close to people before, sans Andrew, and without his mother breathing over his neck every minute of every day, he can actually breathe. Sure, he still wakes up in a dank rundown house sweating from nightmares of his father’s axe, but he's making friends that he’s keeping longer than two weeks and playing exy rather than reading stolen magazines or newspaper articles about it. It’s nice…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, he can’t get over one thing. And that’s the one and only Andrew Minyard. There’s so much he has left to tell him, so much air he has to clear, so many promises to fulfill. He’s broken his trust, and he can’t imagine how Andrew feels right now. He acts apathetic, uncaring, but the look in his eyes when he doesn’t think Neil is looking is pure pain. And it hurts more than anything. Neil wishes more and more each day that he can go back and tell Andrew the truth the first time. Hell, if he knew this would happen, he wouldn’t have even sat beside him that first day of school. He wouldn’t have accepted the melted piece of chocolate from inside Andrew's back pocket. If he knew his mother would drag him away kicking and screaming from the one person that actually brought him happiness, Neil would have accepted Andrew’s offer to run away with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil decides he’s tired of waiting for Andrew to say something. He’s tired of skirting around corners and avoiding sore subjects. Before he dies, which could be any day now, he wants to go out having made up everything to him. Andrew </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusted</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. He told him about everything that was happening to him then and everything that did before, and he told Neil about how he hurt himself sometimes. And Neil returned that with lies and a fake name and a fake appearance and fake promises. Neil knows he’s stupid. Knows he’s a selfish asshole, but he was so dumb for that. So fucking dumb. He needs to fix it, he’s just not sure how. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the courtyard sits a familiar pastel haired goalie, all alone reading what looks to be a Bible. Neil figures he can start there, no matter how much she disturbs him. “Renee?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking up with eyebrows raised and a hand holding her place, Renee’s voice chimes out like church bells (fitting), “Oh! Neil.” She smiles, a sweet thing that leaves Neil’s skin prickling in unease. Patting the empty spot beside her on the stone half-wall she perches on, she sets her Bible to the side and turns, giving Neil her full attention. Neil decides he doesn’t like it. “What can I help you with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s about Andrew,” Neil pauses to glance around, Renee’s rapt hum bringing him back to the present. “I… we have history, I guess. I need to know how to fix things with him. Can you help me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Andrew is a very private person, he only opens up if he trusts you more than he trusts himself. Whatever you did to close him off again, it may not be reversible. You might not be </span>
  <em>
    <span>able</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fix it.” Despite her apologetic tone, Neil spots something in her eyes, some sort of assessing challenge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Renee. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, she stands, shoving the book back into her bag and motioning for him to follow her. “C’mon, let’s talk somewhere else. Andrew was supposed to meet me here today, he could show up at any moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t he be mad that you’re gone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll understand.” Her smile twists something in his gut and he quiets as she leads him to a corner between two walls on a secluded part of the school. Something feels wrong, but Neil can’t quite put his finger on it. He knows better than this, but, if it comes down to it, he can probably take her in a fight… Probably. He casts a dubious squint at her unprotected back. “Coming?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renee turns to lean against the bricks- the view to Neil’s left more wall and to the right the back entrance to the football stands. “So,” She shifts, gathering her thoughts. “I don’t want to say much but, Andrew, he talks about you a lot. No details, but…” She chuckles, “There’s a lot of emotion there.” Meeting Neil’s gaze, the side of her face being highlighted by the sun in a pretty picture of innocent yet mischievous knowing, she searches for something in his eyes. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but Neil, you have to be the one who reaches out first. Andrew cared for you deeply, probably still does. I think, if coming from you, he’d be willing to return to those old memories of you both's. He may be willing to hear your side of the story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what transpired between the two of you, but it’s clear you two were close… I’ve never seen Andrew like this before. He’s usually so,” She gesticulates, searching for the right word, “Stoic, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah we… </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span>- was stupid, I don’t deserve his trust again but-” But I need to let him know everything before I have to leave again. Though Neil doesn’t finish his thought, Renee nods like she understands, and while it probably should have brought that striking feeling of unease back, it manages to do exactly the opposite somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just talk to him. If you were anyone else I’d tell you not to bother, but…” She smiles conspiratorially. “Just talk to him, 'kay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Thanks, Renee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Now, let’s get back before first bell rings.” Renee offers her arm for Neil to hook his into, and when he does, it doesn’t feel as wrong as he thought it would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Neil tries, he can never find the right moment to get Andrew alone. It's always something. Andrew always has somewhere to be. It's beginning to get frustrating, but Neil can't blame him for avoiding him. If Neil was him, he’d do the same thing. In fact, it's probably the smarter thing to avoid someone like Neil Josten. A liar, a runaway. Yeah, nothing good can come from that. But, Neil needs Andrew to understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their first game of the season is here already, the team practically buzzing as they climb onto the large team bus (much too large for their puny size). As everyone files on, the seniors all clamoring towards the front- Matt, Dan, Allison, and Seth; most of the juniors near the middle- Aaron taking up a whole seat to nap, Renee and Kevin doing the same save for Renee’s headphones and window headrest and Kevin’s open laptop with reruns of collegiate games, Neil watches as Andrew heads to the very back. The bus allows for a good gap between him and the rest of the team, but Neil isn’t sure if he's welcome there too. He knows it's unlikely, and even Kevin grips his arm as he takes a step further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit with me.” His eyes flicker to Andrew’s blank stare out the window, face void of emotion, then back to Neil. “We can study these games and talk strategies.” Neil hesitates. “Neil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I’ll take you up on that next time, yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neil!” Kevin calls, but it's already too late. Neil moves with a silent determination towards the back of the bus, however that short-lived confidence quickly fades as he locks eyes with the quiet boy from his past. His steps become slower, less sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I sit here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need my permission. Do what you want.” Neil can’t help himself, the way he speaks is just too similar to when they were younger, and Neil smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Neil sits in the seat across the aisle from Andrew, silent, watching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Staring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to fix it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil earns a sharp look for that. “What’s there to fix? You made yourself very clear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andrew, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t my choice.</span>
  </em>
  <span> My mother- she, we-” Neil doesn’t know how to tell him. How to speak his given name, how to explain his father, how to tell him about the ever-shortening timer on his lifespan. He doesn’t know how to explain what he did- why he did it, why his mother had to drag him away, why he couldn’t go with him. “I’ve been lying to everyone, including myself, for my whole life. I didn’t know- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> know… How to tell you,” Deep breath in, deep breath out. Golden honey eyes, a deep understanding and yet, he doesn’t know the half of it. “How to tell you the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew quiets for a moment, and that short </span>
  <em>
    <span>short</span>
  </em>
  <span> moment feels like a lifetime longer than Neil would ever live to see. “It’s my turn in the truths game. You left before I could ask my question.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” Neil watches as Andrew turns to look out the window again, the bus finally pulling out of the parking lot. “Ask whatever you want to. This time, this time I’ll give you the truth. No matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those eyes turn on him again, that same intensity Neil remembers always admiring. “Was any of it true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The feelings were real… not much else was… my father is an asshole though. He’s hurt me, but not… not </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the ways I told you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your turn.” Neil hates how he skirted over his omission, but he understands it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is… what happened to you still happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew freezes for a second, and Neil wants nothing less than to go back and fulfill his promise of fucking up anyone who hurt him. “No. I live with my cousin now. He graduated last year and took custody of me and Aaron. I’m… I’m never going back there. I’m staying here as long as they’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil nods, relieved beyond belief for that answer. “I’m glad you got out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit in silence like that for a good bit, watching the trees zoom by out the window and listening to the raucous laughter of Matt and Seth as they exchange stories with the girls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are the exact ways?” The question startles Neil, the silence having lasted for so long it distracted him. It takes him a moment to understand, but when he does he takes in a sharp breath- this is it. He's finally going to tell someone what he’s been afraid to say aloud his entire life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before answering, Neil has to take a moment to remind himself that his mother is dead, and nothing was going to happen to him if he told Andrew the truth. “My father- my father is the Butcher of Baltimore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A serial killer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Andrew doesn’t say anything, but Neil can tell pieces of their shared childhood were beginning to fall into place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And your mom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She wasn’t a lawyer, that’s for sure. She- she was the one that made me leave. I’ve been everywhere, basically- been through twenty-one names and even more faces. I wanted to stay, to run away with you like we planned, but she- She found out. She saw us together under our tree. That night…” Neil looks away, unable to continue, but Andrew hums his acknowledgement. “She’s dead now. My mother. He killed her in Seattle… I don’t know how long I have left to live. He could come for me at any moment. I don’t… I wanted to tell you. I really did, but I couldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to let him get to you.” Neil knows that sentence is void of logic, that the hidden promise held there is implausible, improbable, but he smiles anyway. It's childish and stupid and insignificant, but Neil believes him. Andrew never breaks his promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Neil mutters, a whimsical happiness blooming in his chest. It feels unreal, to be here with him, his secrets laid bare for the first time in his life. And the way Andrew seems uninterested in his real name sparks a feeling like no other. Neil wants to hang onto it for as long as he can. “I like being Neil Josten, and I like being with you again.” The ‘I missed you’ goes unspoken, but the way Andrew schooches over in his seat, a silent invitation that Neil takes immediately, says everything that their mouths can’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The game went… okay. Andrew and Neil’s conversation on the bus seeming to amp up both their performances. Seeing Andrew try more than he ever has, just for Neil, kept him afloat for the entire game. The foxes were still uncoordinated, a table glued together- able to break at any moment, but they were at least better than their opponents, what with their new speedy secret weapon. That and, despite the bitterness between some players- see Seth at Neil and also at Kevin, there was an understanding between the nine of them. A need to win, to prove themselves capable. The foxes were tired of being the laughing stock of the highschool teams. They were tired of being in last place every damn year. They found consolation in each other, and now they were ready to overcome their differences. And it showed. The Palmetto High Foxes won 5-3. Their first win in a very long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next </span>
  <em>
    <span>month</span>
  </em>
  <span> at school, no one could shut up about it. The attention the group got was unsettling for Neil, but with his friends at his side- one old and the rest new, he felt invincible. Like the timer on his life wasn’t so low. For the first time since he was a dumb and scared kid sitting under the bleachers on a hot Californian day munching on a melted Hershey bar given to him from an equally fucked up kid, Neil felt at peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil knows he will have to face his father eventually, and that timer that dictates his ever shortening lifespan is still ticking, but now he has Andrew back, their shared looks and touches something new and inviting, and he has the beginnings of a home here- maybe even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>family</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Matt’s warm head pats, Dan’s high fives, Seth’s rough but not unwelcome hugs, Renee’s quiet solidarity, Aaron’s playful banter, Kevin’s sharp praise, Allison’s sleepovers and enforced self-care, and most breathtaking of all, Andrew’s kisses and trust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neil Josten's fate is inescapable, but for now he can be selfish. And with Andrew by his side- all truths laid bare, he's content with that. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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